


Try, Try Again

by stellanti_nocte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, mention of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:53:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellanti_nocte/pseuds/stellanti_nocte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom's first attempt at creating a horcrux does not go as planned, but he will not accept failure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try, Try Again

“If at first you don’t succeed…” Tom whispered into the cold, stagnant air of the Chamber of Secrets.

He hated muggle phrases.

Muggles seemed to embody everything that made Tom weak, a failure. He did not like failing. He could not accept it in others and he could not accept it in himself. There was no excuse for failing.

He looked upon the shattered necklace with disdain and thought of what could have gone wrong. Perhaps the host for his soul needed to be stronger? Surely, the thin chain and tiny glass pendant were fragile, but he’d been looking for something that he could keep with him at all times and hide from view. He supposed he could try a sturdier chain and perhaps a pendant made of metal instead. The necklace itself meant nothing to him.

Ah…

Was his miscalculation in the sentimental area? Did his soul need an object of special interest to him in order to stick? He thought back to the ritual he had performed moments before. It was as if his soul was reluctant to leave his body for a useless, meaningless piece of jewelry.

_He_ was far from meaningless, after all.

Tom considered his choices. It was unfortunate that he did not have many things to his name, and even less that held any form of…sentiment. Certainly none that could be hidden on his person at all times. He shifted, resisting the urge to tap his foot, and felt the weight of a small book in his robe pocket, against his thigh.

Well now…yes, that could work rather well…

Days later, Tom summoned the basilisk from the depths of the school and watched in anticipation as it killed the little mudblood. Pleased that his task had been completed without having even left the drainage pipe, he ordered the basilisk back to its dwelling and left the dead girl in the bathroom.

Once again in the Chamber, he pulled out the plain black book and laid it on the ground in the center of the circle he’d drawn on the stones. He held his wand firmly and chanted the proper spell to rip apart his split soul. He immediately knew that this time, he had succeeded.

It hurt. It hurt so much, a bone deep ache that he couldn’t describe.

There was a tugging, a pulling, like his hair was being ripped out of his skull slowly and precisely and a thousand times worse. He felt it would go on forever and feared he would not survive it. He wondered how he stayed upright.

He had no idea that his body remained stoic and unmoving as his soul ripped free. The pain – the damage – was not physical; therefore it did not affect his body. But his mind…

Finally, it ended and Tom’s body twitched back to life. His fingers gripped the wand in his hand and he forced himself to focus. With another chant used to embed the piece of soul into an object, Tom created his first horcrux out of the diary.

Now he would just have to hide it somewhere safe.


End file.
